


I am Flesh and I am Bone

by snoozingkitten



Series: Dogtown [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alexander Ovechkin/Nicklas Backstrom, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, Past Alexander Ovechkin/Evgeni Malkin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8612881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoozingkitten/pseuds/snoozingkitten
Summary: Maybe werewolves really are bad luck. There is a blood mage on the loose, Detective Ovechkin is on the case, and there is a lot of not talking about the future.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd add more to this but then like a lightening strike I jotted it all down. I guess I wasn't done with the Wizard and the Stray 
> 
> Track_04 is my beta, and my angel 
> 
> Title is from Sir Sly - Glitter and Gold, previous work was Silversun Pickups - Cannibal, and series is inspired by Dowtown by the Fratellis

The night was overcast, light misting of raining hanging suspended in the air, not quite falling but enough to form beads of moisture on the leaves. Everything smelled damp and old. Sidney was panting lightly; he’d run at full tilt through the brush, jumping over fallen trees and snapping his teeth at bushes that rustled in the faint breeze. It was nice to let go, just run without purpose. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He was out here for a reason, but this was the fist night where the temperatures dipped below freezing, likely helped along by the damp and the cloud cover. 

It was a new moon tonight, whatever light from the stars was snuffed out. Anyone else would be stumbling through the dark. As it was, Sidney had tripped twice, once rolling across the damp mulch all four legs tangled together, very glad no one was around to see him. 

He put his nose to the ground and tried to sniff out what Patric wanted. 

 

_”I hate doing it, I almost died last time,” Patric said, yet he was smiling through it, more amused than dismayed. “Just about fell and broke my fool neck. Then I couldn’t find my way back for hours after!”_

_Geno, sitting behind the counter reading a trashy novel in Russian, snorted but didn’t bother to offer a comment._

_“It would be a tragic loss of a beautiful life,” Sidney agreed with every ounce of gravitas he could. Managed to keep a straight face for all of 20 seconds after he said it._

 

Sidney had agreed because as far as he could tell, Geno and Patric lived off some weird bartering system and Sidney figured he owed Patric a solid. For always stealing his coffee if anything. 

Some plants only had power when picked on the new moon. Apparently a new moon and the first frost were perfect conditions. 

Sidney sniffed, bringing himself in widening circles until he found a whole patch of the creepers. They trailed against the ground like spilled blood, budding into small green leaves when they dove underground, splitting off in two directions. The whole thing was likely one plant just taking up all the available space. It smelled like poison, toxins likely to kill off other plants. Patric didn’t know the name of it in English and just shrugged, unconcerned. Sidney didn’t know what it was either, just that it smelled like the one he had. 

Sidney folded himself back up into a man. Two legs, two hands, tiny teeth and eyes. He was almost completely blind in the dark. Senses just above baseline. That and he was cold, aware of the prickle of fallen needles against the suddenly vulnerable skin of his feet. Water beaded on his eyelashes, raising gooseflesh down his arms. 

There was just enough ambient light to follow the lines of the plant, ripping it from shallow roots. He couldn’t smell it like this, just damp earth. The sounds of the night were muted now, small animals rustling around, owls barely made a whisper as they swooped from tree to tree. 

He pulled large handfuls of it out, following the creepers until he had a small pile. 

He’d managed a sort of sling over his one shoulder - there were some logistical problems carrying luggage on four legs. Sidney unfolded the cloth bag, filling it with the plants. Folded the edges back together. He was beginning to shiver, hands clumsy with the cold. 

Shifting too fast was physically painful, left him feeling dizzy and off balance, unsure of where his feet were in space. Hands didn’t feel like front paws at all, shoulders at a completely different angle. The shift wasn’t a gradual transition; it was a violent tearing free. Feeling lost in his own body, somewhere between wolf and man with none of the grace of either. 

Sidney sat on his haunches, slowly lapping up bits of his own skin, steaming in the cold, and waiting for the feeling to pass. At least he’d left the chill with his people-flesh. Fur was thicker and insulated, well suited to this kind of weather. 

It had been winter the first time the change took Taylor, blood splashing in the snow while their mother shed her own clothes to join. She’d always made the change seem like it could be graceful and anything but brutal.

Sidney sat on the porch, bundled up in his snow suit watching while blowing on a mug of Tim Horton’s hot chocolate, a treat for doing well in the tournament earlier that day. Taylor had begun to eat, giving into the first wolf instinct, her tiny muzzle stained with blood and snow. She’d gotten distracted half way though and Mom had nipped her on the rump bringing her back to task. He had been jealous at the time. He wasn’t allowed to shift without permission, and he was still too young to grow into a rebellious streak. 

Sidney slowly got to his feet, shaking the memories with the forest floor detritus from his coat. Bent at the neck and waited out the head rush, caught the bag in his jaws and set off for Geno’s car at a slow meander. 

\--

Alex sighed, tilting his chair back on two legs and watching the fan spin around above the cubicle maze that was the detective’s offices. Mighty towers of paperwork and so-called justice printed in ink and dead trees. 

He hated paper work. 

He’d much rather be on the street with his fingers on the pulse of the city, waiting for the next thing to go down. There was always something going on out there, the city had a life and will all her own and Alex just liked being balls deep. 

Nicklas came back to his desk, looking as serene as ever, lank blond hair slicked back in a new hairstyle he was trying out. Alex was going to destroy it later. 

“Anything?” 

“Nothing useful. Kid says Malkin hired him to help him look for something in the warehouse district, he has text messages about the plan to his friends. Can’t prove it, but says he was there from 11:30 till 02:00, Malkin and a huge dog. There was something there, he couldn’t say what, just that it attacked them, he didn’t get a look at it, couldn’t even describe it, wouldn’t open his eyes even speaking of it.” 

“Those with sight are easily blinded,” Alex agreed and Nicklas gave him a dirty look for interrupting him. 

“Apparently there was a fight, Malkin was injured and it just vanished after. Didn’t even know there was a body until I told him, said he saw Malkin and the dog get into the car and drive away.” 

“Hm.” Alex hummed. 

“Didn’t say anything about a werewolf at all, just looked uncomfortable when I mentioned it looking like an animal attack.” 

Alex snorted. He would never understand how Zhenya convinced people to follow him so fast. Which wasn’t at all true - he’d once been young and more than a little in love when Zhenya, dazzled by everything he could do. 

They had both changed a lot since then; still, sometimes he would look at the pout of his mouth and remember biting it while Zhenya hissed at him to fuck him harder, his back a perfect beautiful arch. His skin was electric to the touch. It was the two of them against the world. Zhenya had burned so bright it almost hurt too look at, and Alex used him as his mirror. The only person he couldn’t see was himself. 

He was old and boring now. 

Nicklas snapped his fingers in front of Alex’s face, aware he’d lost him inside his own head. 

“So, nothing.” 

“Yup.” Nicklas stood against his desk, hip pressed against it, looking at the pile of papers on Alex’s desk. “Why are you looking that up?” 

“Met Zhenya at the scene, he said this wasn’t the first case, so I pulled some files." He gathered them up into a pile and handed them over. 

“Before you gave him the suspect.” He said it mildly, but Alex would have had to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to catch that Nicklas was disappointed in him for that. “And let them go.” 

It wasn’t the first case where he had pulled a similar stunt, but Zhenya had failed to tell him about his little fight with something in that district the night before. “He will be in town until the investigation is done.” 

“Could this have been a werewolf too? Maybe they know something.” Nicklas scanned the next page, eyebrows knitting together as he read through the summary of the coroner’s report (too mangled to tell time or mechanism of death, cause was homicide, no liver, no heart, all other bones and organs scattered about and damaged but accounted for). 

He didn’t doubt this Sid could have done it. He’d never seen a werewolf before that day. It was horrifying and breathtaking all at once. Huge and powerful, wild and hungry black like the night sky, but light like the night sky too, full moon and stars burning through the cracks. He had known in his bones he was looking at a predator. He wondered idly what it would take to tame him. 

“I think they do know more than he’s letting on,” Alex agreed. 

Nicklas looked put-out. “Malkin never tells you everything.” 

He once did, and Alex couldn’t help but trust him, and just wait for it to burn him. Nicklas gave him a pitying look; if Alex could see everyone too well, Nicklas was the only one who could see him. 

His mobile went off before Alex could begin the same old conversation about Malkin’s place in his life, met only by Nicklas’ passive-aggressive agreement. 

He listened to the call with a frown and a building sense of dread. 

“We’ve got another case.” 

Alexander Ovechkin and Nicklas Backstrom were only ever assigned to very specific kinds of cases. 

“Well move your fat ass.” Nicklas shoved at his chair with his foot. 

\--

Geno was leaning up against the counter in the Love Shack with his tablet out. He was very busy making up email addresses and leaving glowing and completely false reviews about his fortune telling skills here at the Shack. 

The lull between cases was almost nice; he’d gotten caught up on some Netflix, done some reading. He’d been bent over every surface in his house and fucked until he literally couldn’t breath, begging and gasping for Sidney to let go of his hands so he could come. Geno grinned to himself, typing out one from a girl stating that he was devilishly handsome and that his guidance had helped her make a huge decision about her job. 

Sounds like something he would do anyways. Everyone knew you couldn’t tell the future, the matrix of magic was so huge and so complex there was no way of knowing what was going on down to the atom in one moment, let alone what was going to happen in the next minute, let alone throughout any one person’s life. He had been close once, calling upon all the power in his blood, in his body because he could. Because he had the power, and he needed to rend, to destroy. To work out the rage. 

Sidney came through the door, bringing with him a gust of cold early winter wind. Geno hissed, recoiling a little. 

“Go away, I was finally warm.” 

The insulation in the whole building was awful, his feet were always cold unless he was actively in the shower. Gave him a reason to pulled Sidney close when they were sweaty and sleepy, tell him to stay and keep him warm. Sidney almost always did, letting himself melt back into Geno’s bed, snuggling up behind him and letting Geno try and tuck his toes against his shin to keep them warm. Sidney seemed to run almost too-hot, just a human body trying to burn off the excess energy of a wild animal. 

“Pat around?” Sidney peered around like Geno was hiding him somewhere amongst the shelves. 

Geno heaved a put-upon sigh, so Sidney would know just how much he was being an inconvenience. “He’s in the basement summoning women off the internet or something like.” Geno shrugged while Sidney laughed. The winter sun picked out the brown in his hair that looked almost black. Geno made himself blink. 

Sidney vanished into the stock-room. Geno slid his tablet under the table and followed him.

The basement was actually bigger than the structure itself. It was filled with jars, chests, and suspicious holes dug in the ground. Like upstairs there was no pattern to the chaos that Geno could find. If it was possible, it was even colder down here; the air was cold and damp, surprised him that he couldn’t see the air escaping his mouth. 

“Here you go.” Sidney tossed him the cloth back. “I hope that’s enough?” 

Patric pulled out the coiled red plant, grinning happily. 

“This is perfect, thank you so much Sid.” 

The word for that plant was Blood of the Wolf; one had to wonder if Patric knew and wasn’t saying, or he really forgot. It was impossible to tell with him. His smile never betrayed anything. Geno gave up playing poker with him a long time ago. 

“You crash my car?” Geno demanded. 

“Had to ditch it out of town, damn thing broke down,” Sidney agreed and Geno rolled his eyes. Sidney, on the other hand, he would play poker with - he gave away his amusement in the tilt of his gorgeous mouth. 

“Oh good, wanted new one anyways.” 

Sidney just smirked at him, and that was unfair. Geno knew that look, wanted it all over him. 

“Let me know if you need anything else, it isn’t a half-bad forest to run around.” 

“Too many fey, buzz in your ears.” Patric looked briefly annoyed. Geno had never gone out there himself, the fey didn’t approve of beings like him. They probably didn’t even notice Sidney, the same kind of wild heart. 

“Come, make me tea.” Geno walked up behind Sidney, interrupting his poking around at some jars. 

“Make your own tea.” Sidney huffed. 

Geno groped his ass, one firm handful. “Come make me tea.” 

Sidney snorted and shook him off, the look he gave Geno looked hungry even in the dim lighting. The sensation was new for him, like Sidney would tear into him, only be satisfied when he had devoured him. No wonder people didn’t like werewolves. They were dangerous. Geno wanted to put his fingers in his mouth and dare him to bite. 

Sidney crowded him up the stairs to his house, too close behind him, beside him, around him. Filling all the air around him with heat. Geno couldn’t keep his hands to himself, reeling Sidney against him before they were even through the front door. 

His mouth was hot compared to Geno’s chilled skin, pressing him up against his own front door. The runes carved around it made his skin tingle. Sidney's knee slid between his legs, kicking his feet apart so his powerful thigh was pressed right up against his dick. 

Geno bit at his cheek lightly, it seemed to shake Sidney, make him wild, humping Geno into the door and breathing heavy against his shoulder. 

“Bed, bed,” Geno chanted against Sidney’s ear, probably too loud. 

He almost fell backwards when the door opened, tripping as his support suddenly gave way. Sidney caught him, countering his flailing weight with a solid stance. Geno clung to his chest as his equilibrium reasserted itself. 

“Evgeni Malkin, great wizard,” Sidney teased, guiding them backwards.

“Sidney Crosby, huge asshole,” Geno countered, slipping his hands down Sidney’s back. His spine was a luscious curve from wide shoulders down to his ass. Geno swept his hand down it over and over as he used the other to anchor himself to Sidney, half afraid he was going to fall again if Sidney let him go. 

They twisted as they worked through Geno’s room, the floor cold on his bare feet. Sidney let Geno push him down onto the bed. Laying there, thighs spread, propped up on his elbows. His mouth was bruised and wet from Geno’s kisses. He stared up at Geno, shameless in the naked lust painted all over his face. It was a rush knowing that Sidney wanted him that much. 

Geno crawled on top of him, tucking his knees up around his sides so he was looming over Sidney. Still, Sidney never tipped his head back, never rolled over and bared his throat the way Geno couldn’t seem to stop doing. Sidney slipped his hands up Geno’s back, palms huge and warm against the dip of his spine. 

“Apologize for trying to drop me on my ass.” 

Geno rolled his hips, settling a little more firmly. Sidney was getting hard against his ass. Could feel it beginning to rub against his cheeks, blunted by the material of Sidney’s jeans. 

“I caught you didn’t I?” Sidney was smirking at him. He tugged Geno’s sweats down so he could get two palms of bare ass. Geno moaned low in his throat, pushing into the contact. 

“My hero.”

He had to bend his back to lean down and kiss Sidney. It was worth it for the way his breath hitched when Geno licked into his mouth. The way he opened for Geno’s kisses, letting him take possession of his mouth and body, Sidney hemmed in under him with long arms and legs, choosing to stay there. 

Suddenly, he needed to get fucked again. Wanted it like the first time; he thought he was going to lose his mind, Sidney’s thick dick working into him with gentle rolls of Sidney’s hips. Hell, he was still sore from the last time, the pleasant ache after an intense work out, but he wanted it again and again. Until neither of them physically couldn’t get it up anymore. 

“Get naked. Now,” Geno growled at Sidney, rolling off him to slip his sweats all the way off. His t-shirt was lost over his head with a little wiggle. Sidney tackled him to the bed and Geno landed with a gasp. He laughed, Sidney growling playfully against his chest. 

“Grandma, what big teeth you have,” Geno teased, breaking off in a moan when Sidney used those teeth to dig into a familiar bruise. 

“Grandma, what a big co-“ Geno was silenced by Sidney’s hand sealing tight over his mouth, Sidney’s teeth still busy gnawing a new mark into Geno’s pec. 

“Just, stop talking.” Sidney laughed, muffled by the bits of Geno’s flesh in his mouth. 

“Make me.” Geno groaned, words garbled from speaking into Sidney’s palm. They may have not known each other long, but he did know that Sidney was one competitive son of a bitch and that he probably shouldn’t have said that. 

That turned into two fingers shoved in his mouth. 

Geno’s stomach tightened, everything lighting up from his amazingly hard dick outwards. Sidney’s fingers shoved to the knuckles in his mouth, making him work to take them properly. Sidney slithered between his legs, pushing them apart to expose Geno to his hungry gaze. Sidney’s cheeks were flushed, lips bitten red and curls flying everywhere. Geno tilted his hips up, working to expose himself even further. To entice Sidney to where Geno desperately needed him. 

“Look at you,” Sidney said, voice thick with lust. 

He popped his own thumb in his mouth, giving Geno just enough time to anticipate the stretch before Sidney was working it into his ass. He grunted around Sidney’s fingers, giving him a hard suck, that had Sidney flashing a dangerous grin at him. 

Geno garbled out his name around the fingers in his mouth, teeth probably catching more than he would have let them if it was a cock. 

Sidney looked at him, slipped his hand out so he could push the three fingers deeper into Geno’s mouth instead, effectively gagging him and making his lips stretch around the intrusion. Geno shook from the tips of his toes all the way up to his hair. 

He wasn’t going to survive this thing with Sidney. His brain was going to leak out his ears, Sidney was so spine-meltingly hot. Sidney pushed two knuckles up behind his balls and Geno saw stars, grunting, toes curling where one of his legs was thrown over Sidney’s shoulder. 

“So fucking hot,” Sidney breathed, doing it again, groaning when Geno shivered, whining desperately. “I could do this forever.” He tugged on Geno’s rim, sending a tiny seismic event through his stomach, aftershocks making his balls ache. He clenched down, wishing for something bigger. 

“Yeah, okay,” Sidney said a little dumbly, licking at his lips. He leaned down and licked at Geno’s lips around his fingers, ignoring the spit that had leaked out down his chin. There was barely a moment when the fingers were removed to when Sidney replaced them with his own tongue. Geno kissed him back almost angrily, lips feeling weirdly numb. He clutched Sidney’s shoulders, holding the back of his neck so Sidney could do nothing but keep kissing him. 

Sidney was grinding down against him, little rolls of his hips that wasn’t nearly enough for what either of them wanted. 

“Hands and knees,” Sidney urged, what an excellent idea. Brilliant planning. 

Geno needed a little help getting there, trapped between Sidney’s thighs, clumsily twisting over on his stomach, hands guiding him until he was on his hands and knees. 

Two fingers, pushed in fast and slick, had him arching his back and grunting, pushing back on them. Sidney worked lube inside him, not enough, just a tease. 

“Sid.” Geno groaned breathlessly. 

“Still talking.” Sidney laughed. 

Geno was going to say something witty. Right there on the tip of his tongue caught in the translation from Russian to English. That was until Sidney began to fuck him with shallow rolls of his hips, sliding just the head against his stretched hole. He wasn’t loose enough and Sidney felt huge working himself inside. Geno gripped the sheets and moaned breathlessly instead. 

Sidney was steady, keeping a steady pressure until he was plastered to Geno’s back. His heart thundered against Geno’s spine, skin blistering hot and slick with sweat. Sidney was all around him, inside him, overwhelming on a scale he didn’t have a frame of reference for. 

“There.” Sidney’s hands fluttered up his sides, fingering his hip bones. Sidney leaned back; his warmth vanishing was the only warning Geno got before Sidney proceeded to try and fuck him through the bed. 

Holy fuck, all that strength, all that power was being used to nail him just right. Sidney’s hands holding his hips up tilted at the angle he wanted. Thighs and glutes working to keep up the rhythmic _slap-slap-slap_ of sweat warmed skin.

There wasn’t anything Geno could do but hang his head limp between his arms and breath. When he tried to grind himself back on Sidney’s dick, suddenly the tender hands on his hips turned to steel. Geno whined. 

He dropped his elbows, face mashed into the blanket, and almost screamed. Right there, it felt like Sidney was fucking right into his prostate. He wasn’t sure what was coming out of his mouth. It was like the moment he began a spell, all the latent energy streaming through him looking for an outlet. Sidney was sex magic. 

He knew Sidney could keep this up all afternoon, crooning wordlessly when Geno thought it was impossible to continue. 

He wouldn’t survive this, but Sidney’s focus was faltering, hips pushing hard against him, tiny fractures in Sidney’s will power. 

“Come 'er” Sidney pulled him back, an arm up across his shoulders, Sidney’s elbow bracing his neck. The position forced his back to bend. 

Geno wasn’t breathing, but he didn’t know if it was because of Sidney’s arm across his neck or Sidney’s hand on his dick. Everything rushed under his skin in different directions, pure chaos. 

Geno shattered, twisting and shuddering, held fast by Sidney’s arms, impaled on his cock as he fucked him through it, drawing it out until Geno was sobbing wordlessly. Sidney eased him back down onto the bed, hips jerking arrhythmically as he came inside of him with a deep groan. 

Sidney had his forehead resting against Geno’s shoulder blade. He could feel the hot fan of his breath against his skin. His heart thumped so loudly it almost drowned up the hectic gasping of his own breath. 

Eventually Sidney decided to move, giving Geno just enough room to roll over. 

“Sweet mother of god,” Geno said fervently to the ceiling. 

Sidney rolled onto his side to look at him. His golden eyes were assessing, the hazy afternoon light didn’t do his beauty justice the way the morning light did. Sidney’s eyes flicked to the bathroom. 

“Here.” Geno held his arms out, he was filthy and sore. Sidney grinned at him, lopsided and sincere. Geno tipped his head back, letting Sidney press a line of kisses there while Geno petted the smooth sweep of his shoulders, his biceps, anything he could get his hands on. 

“I should get going,” Sidney mumbled, batting away Geno’s wandering hands. Such an awful man, leaving him there alone in bed. The worst. 

Geno rolled so he was fully encased in the warm spot and watched Sidney hunt around for his clothes. Sidney left to his shitty apartment. Geno snuggled deeper into the blankets and contemplated dinner. 

\--

It was a fucking blood bath. 

It was always a gooey mess with these types wasn’t it? Not coy about bodily fluids, not like right proper people. Alex sighed, put upon by the world. He could smell it from the hall, old meat and rotting blood making the air thick and syrupy in his lungs. 

“I agree,” Nicklas muttered dryly. 

Davo trotted over to him, face pale under the unfortunate acne scars that made him look like a baby in his blues still. It was possible his luck was even worse than Alex’s; it always happened to be his car that was called to these scenes.

“Report McDavid,” Nicklas said with his kindly grandfather smile. He had the lot of them eating out his hand. It wasn’t fair, they didn’t know what kind of asshole he could be. The brood of rookies never looked at Alex like that, stars in their young eyes. Davo cut his eyes towards his note book and back up seeking a praising smile. 

“Call came in at 10:38, unusual smell. I came to do a wellness check with Nuge, he’s still being sick outside I think, hasn’t stopped vomiting since.” 

Ah, so that’s the one vomiting outside, he had been wondering. It wasn’t overly surprising, this place reeked of blood magic. Iron was thick against the back of his throat, could feel it against his tongue like a coating of rust. Nugent-Hopkins had enough fey in his blood that it would make him sick. The tales were sometimes the fey would swap children, leaving one of their own to grow, to feed off the life energy of a family. Sometimes they had kids. Sometimes those kids had kids. It wasn't common, but it would explain the unholy light in the kid’s eyes. The way he seemed to know when it was always about to rain. 

“Weak stomach,” Alex scoffed and Davo shot him a blank look. He wasn’t old enough to mask the annoyance. The instinct to protect your partner. 

“Who lives here?” 

“According to the lease, Matilda Gables, ID says she’d be about 106 years old. Neighbours say the man who lived here called himself Bob and had no less than five cats, they were all very certain on that point.” 

Oh good, a blood mage named Bob. “Last time anyone saw him?” Alex asked, paused, felt his face scrunch into a disgusted scowl. “Tell me you guys moved cats.” 

Davo looked around like he had just noticed their absence. All three of them looked towards the mess in the living room. “Do you think?” Davo asked, looking a little green himself. 

“Honestly, probably.” 

“Oh. Gross.” Davo flipped through his note book. “Last seen alive four days ago by a neighbour taking her dog out for a walk. No one knows what he did, where he did it, or even who he did it with.” 

“If they do no one is talking,” Alex agreed. 

“Widen the canvass, see if anyone in the building noticed anything weird, flashing lights, power outages, weird noises.” Nicklas ticked off his fingers. 

“Sir?” 

Alex stepped in. “This was obviously a ritual murder, we need to know what they were trying to do.” 

#

Eight solid hours of investigative work before they agreed to stop. 

Matilda Gable, if she was alive, had owned that apartment since rocks were formed and dinosaurs were still the dominant species, for all the information they could find on her. Maybe he was just looking in the wrong punch cards and vinyl records. 

Likely she was just a creative bit of identity fraud, but he did still need to follow up on the lead no matter how slim it was. She would have been the oldest baba he’d ever seen, and not that he wouldn’t do anything for one, he was raised a proper boy who respected his elders. Still, it was difficult to believe she could have drained every last drop of blood from that man’s body. 

Nicklas hadn’t fared much better. It was difficult to canvas without a good photo of the man. Like most wizards he didn’t have photos of himself or his family in the house. Zhenya had never explained it to him, just shoved Alex’s 90s Kodak away from his face with a scowl and a firm ‘Fuck off Sasha’.

“Am I missing something obvious?” Alex asked the world at large. 

“Probably not,” Nicklas responded, looking over his notes one last time before he flipped the book shut. 

Alex huffed, leaning back in his chair with a groan. “Call it.” There wasn’t anything else they were going to manage to get done tonight. 

Nicklas smiled tiredly at him looking at his watch. “Time of death 02:47.” 

“McD’s and a quick fuck?” Alex said, pitch the question in all casual smoothness. Nicklas snorted at him indelicately. “You’ve still got a clean suit left at mine, I just dry cleaned it with my shit.” 

Nicklas shrugged. “Why not.” 

\-- 

“Maybe you should just talk to him, Sidney seems reasonable.” 

Something had felt wrong for days now. Like one of his shoes was slightly too small, subtle but enough to notice with every step. But bigger, the whole world’s shoe was a little too small. It was making him irritable; he usually felt this way this time of year anyways. Too many memories of blood and snow he’d left in Russia. An anniversaries of sorts.

Patric was completely wrong about what had Geno in a fit. 

“It’s not that.” 

“You’ve been moping.” 

“I’m deliriously happy, no work to do, excellent booty calls.” The thick sweater and socks didn’t seem to be helping enough. His hands and feet were cold; mama would call it poor circulation. 

“It’s been a long booty call.” Patric hummed, he was leaning across the counter, propped up on his elbows. He raised both eye brows pointedly. “Kind of like a relationship.” 

“We work together, sort of.” Geno squinted at him. “Do not like you prying.” 

Patric shrugged, shameless as always. They didn’t teach shame or common sense in Sweden it seemed. 

The doorbell jingled, cold wind chasing a young woman inside. 

“Hello, excuse me, I was wondering if I could get my cards read?” She looked a little nervous, pulling her earbuds out as she spoke. 

“Lucky day, Malkin is right here.” Patric gave her a welcoming wave. Demeanour shifting from irritating pain in Geno’s neck to gracious shop keep. 

Geno stood up straight, giving her a gentle smile. A mark if he ever saw one. 

He led her to the back room; there was a table set up there, some silly looking trinkets along the wall. It gave the whole place a gothic store does afternoon tea kind of vibe. She fell for it, settling lightly into the chair, wide eyes darting across the décor. She jumped a little when Geno banged his knee against the leg of the table gracelessly.

“I’ve never done anything like this before.” She laughed a little nervously. 

“Keep relax, helps energy flow better,” he lied through his teeth. 

“This is embarrassing actually, but I just need to know, is there any way you could tell me anything about love? Like if my partner--- ah, I don’t know. That kind of future we might have?” Patric had been hovering near the bead curtain at her back, he arched both eyebrows knowingly.

Geno arranged his scowl into a smile instead, wishing there was some way he could subtly flip him off. 

Fortunes were basically all the same to make up, always start with, “You’re looking for something.” Everyone is always looking for something, fortune, an answer, happiness. No one ever spent money at the palmists’ if they wanted to know what they were going to have for dinner seven Sundays from now. 

She more or less told her own future, getting more and more excited about what each card could mean. She sketched a visage of a man, liked his car and spending time with his friends. “I like spending time with him, and I think he likes spending time with me, he has this ex who he still sees all the time in the same friends group. Should I be worried about that?” 

She was clearly worried he wasn’t ready to commit, but her grandmother had been making sounds about changing her will if she didn’t “settle down”. It was very harlequin. 

There wasn’t anything a piece of cardboard could tell you about a relationship if there wasn’t enough communication. Mostly just pretty pictures made up by some brilliant gypsy back in the day as a new way of swindling the unwashed masses. 

Geno escorted her out of the shop, a chunk of change in his pocket, having let her work her own issues out against the cards, tossed in some platitudes and told her they were the words of fate. She seemed pretty pleased. Maybe she would write her own google review. 

“You’re such a dick.” Patric cackled gleefully, the corners of his eyes vanishing into a field of crinkles, the door slamming shut after her. 

Geno just shrugged. Business was business. 

“The timing is amazing, like it was fate, we were just talking about you and Sid.” 

“Nope, were not.” 

The phone began to ring, Patric gave him a long look. “What do you think was her biggest problem? Maybe, not telling her partner what she wants?” 

Geno flipped him off. Patric was always so full of shit. It was pouring out his ears at the same time as his mouth. 

“Hello, Love Shack.” 

Geno was just turning on his heel to head back upstairs. He had a whole pile of things he could be doing. It was just nice to be down here. Patric talked almost constantly as he worked, filling the silence around him with sweet nothings to no one. It seemed more alive than his apartment lately. Fringe benefit of being more likely to snag Sidney out on one of his errands. 

“It’s for you.” Patric wiggled the plastic phone at him. 

Geno took the old land-line. 

“Zhenya?” 

Geno caught his little smile before it could turn into an actual grin. Only Alex called him that. 

“Sasha.”

Alex sighed so softly on the other end it could have been mistaken for static if Geno didn’t know his voice better than that. “Hey Zhenya.” He sounded relieved. Geno frowned at the counter. “Where have you been for the last couple of days?” 

He sounded so casual, but it was only because Geno had known him since they were both hormone-riddled boys that he knew this wasn’t an innocent question. “Painting toenails, why you want to know?”

“Zhenya, I’m being serious.” 

“You never serious.” 

Alex made a frustrated noise like Geno was wrong about this, when he knew he was right. 

“What do you need Sasha?” Geno sighed, drumming his fingers on the countertop. He should have known this wasn’t going to be a social call. 

“I just needed to make sure you were okay.” 

Alex’s sincerity took him aback, made him stumble over whatever sarcastic and undeniably witty quip was on the tip of his tongue. The silence drew out between them, heavier than it had been in almost a year now. 

“I’m—fine.” He winced with how flat it sounded but Alex couldn’t see him.

“That’s good. Yeah, that’s good.” 

“What is this about?” Geno frowned, clutching the phone a little closer. 

“You know I can’t tell you, it’s business, just be careful. Don’t get mixed up in this one Zhenya.” 

“I can’t do shit, not if you not tell me what’s going on.” 

“Do you want to get food?” 

“What- Alex. The fuck?” Geno dug the edge of the handset into his palm. 

“Come on, like old times, maybe I give you some information.” 

“No. Go away.” 

“Come on. Old man.”

Alex laughed, it sounded a little forced. Still he appreciated the effort. He could say yes, he could go meet Alex in a bar somewhere. They might fight, maybe Geno would get mad when Alex said something otherwise inconsequential. Maybe he would push Alex against the wall of the bathroom, rut against his thigh until he came all over Alex’s too-tight jeans. Maybe they would just shoot the shit and avoid talking about all the mines in their shared history. 

They have done the song and dance so many times he could still feel the glide of Alex’s dick in his palm, the heavy way he breathed against the side of Geno’s head as he humped at him gracelessly right before he came all over the both of them. The memory was practically pressed into his skin. 

“I’m busy. Big plans. You know.” 

“Your loss.” That sounded almost right, teasing with just the base line amount of self-assured confidence that had always attracted Geno to him in the past. 

“Good bye Sasha.” 

“Safety with you, Zhenya Malkin.” 

With those overbearing words of old protection, Alex let the line between them die. Geno put down the phone thoughtfully. Something was obviously going on, Alex would have been a lot more up front if he had just wanted a fuck. Fucking typical Alex. Still, he had to wonder what was out there. Something that had Alex worried about him. 

“Who was that?” Patric smiled like he hadn’t been listening to Geno’s half of the conversation. 

Geno shrugged, there wasn’t an easy way to answer that question. A friend? A pest? Just a concerned citizen. 

“Anyways, want to help enchant some acorns?” Patric continued easily. 

With the kind of timing that Patric called fate, and what Geno called ‘saved by the bell’, Sidney blew into the shop with the afternoon wind biting at his back. 

“Oh, hey guys.” 

Sidney smiled when he saw Geno, golden eyes and black hair catching in the muted light through the dusty front window. “Oh hey G, you bugging Horny?” 

“Horny?” Geno’s eyebrows shot up, temporarily distracted from Sidney’s easy beauty. 

“Old hockey name.” Patric laughed . Sidney put the cooler he was carrying down on the counter. “That for me?” 

“No one else I knows wants that many eyeballs.” 

Geno pulled a face. Maybe it was better he left all the potion making to Patric. Some things were better left to those with stronger stomachs. 

“Hey.” Geno leaned across the desk, letting his eyes slide down Sidney’s body and back up obviously. Sidney gave him an amused smile, and a questioning raise of his eyebrows. “Kiss me.” 

Sidney huffed, leaning over the counter to press a sweet kiss against his lips. He didn’t even slip him any tongue, but this close Geno could smell whatever he used to clean his hair. Didn’t even matter what it was, just that Sidney smelled like it and it was pleasant. 

“Hi.” Sidney said, dork.

Geno flicked a tongue across his bottom lip chasing the faint taste. “Take me with you.” 

“What?” Sidney was still leaning on the counter, but not quite in Geno’s personal space any more, keeping a minimum respectable distance between them. Geno tapped his fingers loudly against the glass case that made up the counter. 

“We take my car, Patric always need weird shit from forest. Let’s go.” 

Patric snorted, rolling his eyes. “You just hate acorns.” Geno didn’t dignify that with a response. 

Sidney shrugged easily. “Okay fine, we will take your car, but I have a few others things to do before that.” 

“Okay.” 

There was a long moment when they just looked at each other, Sidney with a slight frown between his eyebrows. “It’s cold out eh, you’re going to need a lot more on than that.” 

These other errands Sidney stated involved him stopping at some stores – once, a butcher, then giving another cooler to a brewery. Geno figured he probably didn’t want to know what was in this one either. In fact, he was quite sure he was better off not knowing. 

Sidney smiled at people easily, Geno squinted, trying to see the wolf in human skin as Sidney spoke with one of kids smoking out behind the delivery door. The wolf was always there, watching every movement Geno made, knowing prey was near when Sidney was around him. Sitting in the car tapping on his phone, Geno wasn’t close enough to see if he looked at everyone like that.

There was a text message from Alex, ‘Miss your mouth, offer still open xxx’ 

‘Busy tonight,’ he replied. He tapped his finger against the case of his phone, tapping the screen when it shut off. Alex was being oddly insistent about this. There might be something to his paranoia. 

Geno pulled his coat closer around himself; without the engine running, his car was actually pretty cold. Sidney wasn’t wrong, the wind out was pretty biting and he was glad for the extra sweater and thicker jacket Sidney had made him grab. 

Sidney jogged back to the car, slipping into the driver’s seat. The weather never seemed to bother him. His jacket was fairly light and he showed no signs of even noticing the drop in temperature as the night wore on.

“Sorry that took a while.” He was always polite, like it was a verbal tick. 

“Is nothing.” Geno shrugged, continuing to scroll through the games on his phone. 

“That’s all the deliveries for today. Did you really want to go to the forest?” 

Geno paused. He could probably ask to go back to his place and take Sidney apart on the sheets, spread his legs out and eat out that incredible ass until Sidney was demanding to get off. Biting off curses and growling. Sidney probably wouldn’t say no. “Let’s go.” 

The drive out to the national park was mostly quiet. Sidney drove just a bit over the speed limit, looking comfortable in Geno’s car, the lights from the dash making him glow slightly. Geno sprawled in the seat, watching the signs fly by the window. Each one caught the headlight, flaring as they approached it. Watch out for deer. Roadwork. 

“Alex call me,” Geno said and Sidney looked at him briefly with a frown, eyes cutting back to the road quickly. “He is concerned something is happening.”

“Do we have a case?” 

Sidney sounded pleased about that, and Geno smiled, couldn’t stop the reflexive arc Sideny’s bloodlust activated. Made him hungry for skin on skin. Their last case had been a lot of fun, if less bloody than their first. Sidney was grace in motion when he wanted something. 

“Not yet, but I have feeling.” 

Sidney hummed questioningly. 

“Is like, something is wrong in the air.” Like the air itself was slightly made wrong, too much carbon, not enough nitrogen, something was out of balance. A subtle extra pressure with each inhalation. He couldn’t even be sure the two were related. “Can you feel it?” 

Sidney shook his head. “Not a wizard you know.” 

Geno grunted. Maybe it had been too long between cases and he was just getting a little crazy, spooked by Sasha and his cryptic call. He’d tried absently to pinpoint the feeling and couldn’t. 

“Can’t explain.” 

“But there could be something?” 

“Could be,” Geno agreed. Sasha seemed to think so anyways. He’d rarely admit it out loud, but despite the way Sasha looked and acted, he wasn’t a complete idiot. 

Sidney seemed to know where he was going even if it all just looked like the same tree to Geno, pulled over in a little track that had a ‘no unauthorized entry’ sign on it. Sidney pulled the SUV so far into the brush that it was mostly hidden if you were coming down the road. 

“Here?” Geno peered out, there wasn’t much beyond darkness. He was much more an urban child than anything else. The darker outline of trees made him a little nervous. This was an entirely different realm than he was used to, things hid in the dark there. The power of wild things wasn’t something he usually was willing to mess with. Didn’t trust magic that was older than he was. 

“From here we walk, unless you want to stay in the car?” Sidney asked, without looking at him, his attention was on the darkness of the woods. 

Geno let the door slam behind him, stretching out legs that felt a little tight from all the sitting. Sidney stepped around him easily. 

It wasn’t in the clothes, or any one thing that Geno could put his finger on, but Sidney seemed different here, or the way Geno was looking at him was. The scent of dirt and trees welcomed one of their own. 

“Pass me the bag from the back would you?” Geno dug out Sidney’s shopping bag from the back along with his own side bag. He tossed the one to Sidney. 

Inside, there was a washed out jam jar filled with small dried flowers. Sidney opened it and tossed it on the ground. “Oh hey, you can carry things. That will make this so much easier.” 

Geno decided not to dignify that with a response because Sidney was stripping out quickly and efficiently. 

“Liking the view?” Sidney laughed at Geno’s sudden silence. 

“Is very nice,” he agreed. 

Sidney wiggled his way out of his pants. Geno’s balls shivered a little in sympathy. 

“You might want to close your eyes.” 

Geno just stared at him. It had been a long time since he had seen this. Not since that first whirlwind couple of days. The sensation of Sidney’s blood shivering through him, more intimate than Sidney folding him in half and biting at his lips as he tried to fuck the oxygen from his lungs with each shove into the core of him. Geno shifted his weight from his toes to his heels, barely breathing. 

Still Sidney turned a little away from him, letting the change take him. It was almost as awful as Geno remembered. A wolf ripping through a body he was pretty fond of. Tearing it to strips in its bid for freedom. Breaking first at the joints as they twisted back on themselves. Flesh tore with an audible sound, just louder than the wet crack of bone shifting. The snout burst forth most from his mouth, opening wider and wider Sidney’s face stretching and distorting. 

It was cold enough that the skin and fat steamed on the ground. Part of Sidney’s face looked back at him, the arch of one thick eyebrow. Geno bit back on whatever sound he was going to make. 

The wolf shook itself, its coat steamed in the chill too. Sidney sat on his haunches, tipping his head to begin the process of putting himself back together. Geno had no idea why Sidney did that. The careful ritual of eating everything that was left of him, each strip of flesh. The little growling sounds he made as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful. 

“Does it taste good?” Geno found himself asking as Sidney nosed his way in a slow circle looking for any pieces he may have missed. 

The wolf snorted, looking up at him with golden eyes that glowed from his dark face. He looked amused, tongue stained with blood and lolling from his muzzle. 

“That a yes or a no?” 

Sidney shook his head. Geno just chuckled. 

“Where are we going?” 

Sidney sniffed at the flowers on the ground. Geno slung the second bag over his shoulder and began to follow Sidney into the forest. 

Watching him like this was a revelation. Not quite as breathtakingly gorgeous as when he was launching himself into the fight. This was more domestic, sunlight in the kitchen, Sidney going through the cupboards looking for the one mug he always used when he was there. Sidney tipping his head back to sniff the air, tracking the scent of what he was looking for. He moved silently through the underbrush, making no more sound than a rustle of the wind through the trees while Geno crashed after him, feelingly uncharacteristically graceless. 

When they finally found the damn flowers Geno could barely feel his fingers through his gloves. Sidney was warm next to him, sitting there radiating heat like a furnace while Geno crouched down to pick a bunch. 

“It’s fucking cold,” Geno complained. “Cold like witch’s tit.” 

Sidney whuffed, clearly laughing at him. Geno elbowed him in the flank; Sidney didn’t even seem to notice, so solid he just absorbed the hit and leaned back against Geno’s side. Geno let Sidney take more of his weight. 

He piled their stuff into the car and closed the back door after Sidney, muddy paws making a mess of the seats. He didn’t fit in the front with Geno. The radio filled the silence on the drive back, Geno staring at the hypnotic curve of the line on the highway, cruise-control doing most of the work. He had the heat blasted but it wasn’t doing jack-shit. The chill had seeped down into his guts, a searing, visceral cold. 

Sidney followed him up the stairs to his house, breath misting in the air during the quick walk from his parking spot to the house. 

“Tired.” Geno sighed, looking at Sidney in the entryway to his bedroom. It was a lie, he was just cold and Sidney looked so warm, thick black fur and liquid gold eyes. 

Sidney stepped up onto the bed, claws leaving streaks of dirt on his duvet. The process of stripping down to his boxers was painful, losing even those layers of warmth. 

“Move over.” Geno groaned, Sidney curling onto his side. 

Crawling across the bed, he curled into Sidney’s side. He smelled like the forest had, clinging to his coat as if it didn’t want to let him go. Geno thawed by degrees, Sidney’s heart beating smoothly all around him. 

“Kiss me.” Geno laughed, Sidney’s large head nuzzling against the back of his neck. 

Sidney let out a whoosh of air, Geno could feel it tickling across his shoulder, canine amusement. Sidney licked up the side of his face, tongue molten hot and wet. Geno barked out a laugh, turning into the next lick so it swiped across his nose and over a closed eye, his hair getting pulled where it stuck to Sidney’s tongue. 

Sidney nudged him, so he was more trapped under Sidney’s bulk than curled next to him. His face was a little tacky from saliva, but he could dig his fingers into Sidney’s fur this way, feel his heart beat against his rib cage, get just a taste of all that power that coursed through him. Geno fell asleep without remembering to brush his teeth. 

\--

Alex leaned back against his car, rolling a pen between his fingers and wishing he had never quit smoking. It was a harder habit to keep up here on the other side of the Ocean. Taxes and bylaws around each corner just waiting to trop him up. There were four patrol cars parked along the road leading up to the small house. A dumb bungalow thing, one level with a shitty patch of dead grass in the front. 

He had talked to the neighbours along both sides of the street. No one knew anything. No one saw anything. 

Just another body with all the blood on the outside instead of the inside. Pale limbs, almost ivory, smudged red where it splashed back on them. The man was in his early 20s this time – you didn't see old blood mages. 

That brought the total up to four. Four directions, four valves of the heart. Alex sighed, watching his breath steam the air in front of him. It didn’t look anything like cigarette smoke. Puffing instead of curling. 

“It was a filthy habit,” Nicklas commented. 

Alex grunted, neither confirming nor denying his thoughts. 

“You do that thing with your pen when you want it.” 

“Oral fixation.” Alex smirked. He could hear Nicklas roll his eyes. 

He stood straighter when Zhenya’s car turned the corner, rolling to a stop, parked just as illegally behind Alex’s. He wasn’t alone when he unfolded his long limbs. 

“You lead,” Nicklas said quietly. ‘I’ll follow’ he didn’t need to say. 

Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him to wonder what ‘Sid’ might look like without fur and standing on two legs. He might be attractive, except for the ferocious animal Alex could see rattling the chains of his skin. It looked two seconds away from tearing through, rending human flesh in its wake. Alex tried not to tense, to keep his posture casual despite every instinct telling him there was danger.

His smile was lopsided and intentionally disarming, saying something Alex didn’t catch, brushing up against Zhenya’s side. 

Zhenya didn’t look well; he was pale, dark circles around his eyes and coat zipped all the way up. 

“Sasha.” He nodded. “Backstrom.” Nicklas peered at the two of them, face serene and non-judgemental. 

“You never call, Zhenya,” Alex complained. That got him a smile. Geno’s lips were too red against his pale face. 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Speaking of, this is your—“ Alex let it trail, amused he had managed not to say ‘pet’, ‘dog’ or 'lover'. 

“Sidney,” he said, going for a handshake and pausing when Alex took half a step back despite himself. Nicklas stepped closer to him, close enough that Alex could feel his body heat, the united front. 

“Nice to meet you,” Nicklas demurred. Sidney shoved his hands in his pockets, maintaining a polite little half smile despite the stumble. 

“There is something you need me to see?” Zhenya seemed offended that Alex didn’t want to touch his mutt. Normal people didn’t want to stick their hands in front of something with that many teeth and a questionable murder rap. Let along stick their dick in it. 

Straight to business, then. Fair enough. 

“Yes.” 

He considered warning them, saying something about what lay behind the otherwise quiet suburban house with the soon to be plummeting property value. This one hadn’t been dead as long. Last night someone had heard screaming and called the police. Using an anonymous tip line, because forbid a concerned citizen have to get involved at all. There wasn’t anything that could really be said. He wondered if Sidney could smell it. Maybe it made him hungry. 

The front of the house was pretty bland. The entryway had all the normal detritus of a house, key stand, discarded shoes and scarves. 

It was the kitchen that held all the mess. Not that you couldn’t smell it from here. Huge bay windows opened onto a back yard that was lined by thick shrubs, a gentle hill, meaning no one would have been looking in the window. 

Rather than looking like he’d been ripped apart, it looked like he had exploded. It was the most technical way Alex could describe it in his notes. They passed Price from ident in the relatively untouched living room, frowning at the photos on his camera. Like blood splatter in these cases ever followed Euclidian geometry. 

Blood was all over the walls, dripping down and pooling along ugly floor level trim, mixing with dust balls in the corners and dropped food on the floor. It left voids around things like the half-washed blender on the counter, spraying the front. No arcs, no arterial spray to indicate chronicity.

Alex was quiet long enough for the tableau to set in, sink into their minds and bones. He couldn’t see magic the way that Geno could, not with intent of someone who could use it like they breathed. 

“Who?” Geno asked. They were all bottlenecked at the hall, avoiding the edges of the splatter. 

“George Campbell, we can’t find any records on him, he’s paid both speeding tickets he got, otherwise he doesn’t exist,” Nicklas added helpfully. 

“This is the fourth one.” 

“Four?” Geno strayed forward, his werewolf reaching out to tug him back too late. His shoes audibly peeled themselves from each step in congealed blood. 

The exploded shell of the man in the middle, all laid out on his own table, had no eyes. The bones seemed to be crushed, his left arm and leg hanging the wrong way off the edge. 

It was painfully familiar watching Geno walk around the scene, dark eyes taking everything in, that Alex already saw and that he would have no chance of ever understanding. That difference used to be attractive until it was what drove them apart. 

The whole place reeked of blood magic, dripping on the linoleum, splattering the garbage collection calendar pinned to the fridge with a pizza takeout magnet. That which was taboo mixed all over that which was bland. It was likely George too had been a blood mage, as had Jennifer and Aida. There was always a stash of books, mathematics scrawled on memos and in expensive looking diaries.

Geno was doing slow circles, each foot placed with care and without acknowledging the gore around him. Next to him Sidney was barely breathing, coiled tightly, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Nicklas was close on his other side, steady as a fucking rock while Alex felt off balance. 

The odd hush was broken by Geno stumbling into a chair. “Shit.” He blinked a few times, looking at the floor. His footsteps had a pattern to them, something that teased the edges of Alex’s mind. Nothing he could put into words. The thought vanished as soon as Sidney sighed, sounding too close. 

“G?” Sidney called softly. 

He shook his head in a single flat motion. 

When he was younger, Geno had the same mouth, made for biting, made for kissing, made for being shamelessly wrapped around his dick every semi-private place Alex could find. Made for being a little shit. His hair had been longer then, cheeks with some of the baby fat, body gangly and thin. 

“Outside,” Alex grunted, reaching for his notebook. “Stinks.” 

The smell clung, it was in his clothes and in his hair, aging blood and fresher meat. It should have been refreshingly crisp outside – instead it just made his lungs ache. “What can you tell me?” 

“Nothing.” Geno shrugged, rolling his neck and shaking himself a little. He looked a little spooked himself, the warmth inside of the house not adding any colour to his face. 

“Bullshit,” Alex bit out. “You lie badly.” 

Geno fixed him with an annoyed stare, lips flattening. “Not lie, I don’t know anything about this. You wouldn’t tell me about it.” 

The anger bubbled up inside of him, vicious and cutting. Always there just under the surface between them, wrapped up in too much history and too much love. “This is not the time to run off and do everything yourself. It is dangerous.” 

Geno crossed his arms, standing a little taller shifting into a taller stance to match Alex’s aggression. Alex had always been bigger anyways. “I know nothing.” The words were bit out, snarled in low Russian. 

“Zhenya.” 

Geno sighed quietly like Alex was being a chore, and it wasn’t fucking fair. Alex’s temple hurt with how clenched his teeth were. They had been working up to this for weeks now, something shifted, a fault line cracking and just waiting for one of them to dig their fingers in. They had probably been working up to this for months even. 

“They were blood mages Zhenya. All four of them.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“I do,” Alex shouted. “I always know Zhenya. I can see them like I see you.” Dark and twisted, a snake eating itself. 

Geno made a wordless sound at him, stepping back a little, Sidney standing behind him. The two of them wild and dark and terrifying, too much for anyone to handle. It burned through him, let loose his tongue. Anger shooting through him making him bold. 

“Give me the werewolf.” 

Geno snarled. Looking directly at him was like looking up at the sky on a dark night and knowing the void was right there, beautiful and glittering but cold and deadly. Imploding on itself. 

“Favour,” Alex said softly. 

Still Geno paused, letting it draw out between them. He looked like he was going to refuse anyways, go back on his word. Alex’s spine felt like the boney bits melted a little, leaving him unsteady the ground rocking around him. Geno’s eyes were huge and dark and so far away, farther than he had ever seen them. 

“Fine,” Geno snapped. “Take him.” 

Alex went to step forward, wasn’t sure how well he was dealing with the shift in the polarity in the world, feet stuck down. Hot was cold and up was down. _Geno wasn’t his_ , fucking hell below. 

Nicklas bumped his shoulder as he stepped around him. Sidney’s eyebrows went up as they approached, Geno already walking away. 

“You’re under arrest, suspicion of murder.” 

Alex watched Sidney’s pale face search out Malkin even as Nicklas continued to rattle off his Miranda Rights. 

“Zhenya,” Alex called. 

Zhenya cursed at him over his shoulder, slipping into angry Russian towards the end. His son’s son born with the tail of a devil and the teeth of a lion the better to bite his mama’s tit. He looked neither of them in the eye as long legs carried him quickly back to his car. 

Sidney was cuffed and put in the back of their car. Alex noticed this, in the way that it was happening around him but he couldn’t seem to connect it to himself in any way. 

Nicklas touched his arm bringing him right back into the moment, clear like it never happened. 

Alex breathed out slowly, watching the air condense in front of his face. 

“Okay?” 

Alex grunted. 

Nicklas took gum out of his pocket, popping the chicklet through the foil and tossing two into his mouth. He drew the moment out, letting the silence stew around them. All around them Alex could feel eyes on him, eyes finding eyes. 

“You know he was never yours.” 

“You don’t know that,” Alex snapped and Nicklas gave him a cross look. Alex lowered his eyes again, shoulders rounding. “I thought he was.” Alex let it hang between them, silence drifting slowly. He had been holding onto those words for so long, they needed to be savored. “He’s been gone a long time hasn’t he?” 

“I’ve been trying to tell you this.” 

“You are a dick.” Alex tried to laugh and it sounded brittle cracking in the cold air between them. 

Nicklas chewed loudly. 

“Fuck,” Alex shouted. The force of breath from his lungs, dragging out the bad, reminding him of giving up nicotine and how light breathing had felt. Nicklas laughed. “Drink to memories later. We have work to do.” 

\--

Sidney bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. It kept him caged in his skin. 

His hands were trapped behind his back, just a little under him. He felt his ears burn, nails digging into his palms, making another point of contact between the inside and the out. Kept the rage stewing inside rather than outside. 

Eventually the two detectives came into the car, slamming the doors enough to rock it on its wheels. Sidney ignored them, ignored the casual conversation about stopping for coffee. Ignored it the way he’d been able to hear them talking outside of the car. 

He refused to look at them all the way from the underground parking. Through the station. To a small white room. Kept himself hunched over, shoulders rounded inwards. Protecting his vulnerable belly, ready to attack. 

Even then, back of his neck burning, Sidney stared through him, chewing on the silky skin of inside of his cheek until it hurt. It felt swollen now when he probed it with his tongue. 

They left him alone for a long time. It was difficult to know how long, could feel the world moving around him without having a way to measure it. Outside his room, doors opened and slammed, muffled voices just at the edge of his hearing. At least they had taken the handcuffs off, leaving him with nothing to do but stare at the dry skin around his cuticles. 

He was tapping his fingers along the edge of the low table when the detective eventually came in, shuffling in one after the other. Just as unpleasant to look at as when they first put him in here. 

“I am Detective Alexander Ovechkin and this is Detective Nicklas Backstrom. Could you state your name for the record?”

“Sidney Crosby.” 

“You are being questioned as a person of interest in the murder of Unknown Male, John Doe, October 20 earlier of this year." 

Sidney pressed his lips together, keeping his gaze steady. 

All of the questions followed a logical progression. Yes, he had hired Evgeni Malkin to help track a creature. Yes they were in the vicinity of the scene that night along with Connor Sheary. 

Would Connor be able to pick you out of a line up. 

Yes. In a sense of the word. 

He doubted the kid would ever forget the sight of him. 

Where were you between the hours of 2 a.m. and 10 a.m. when the body was discovered? 

Sidney shifted his gaze to meet Ovechkin’s eyes; this close, his jaw was square, and his nose crooked like it had been broken before. 

“I was with Evgeni Malkin all night.” He struggled to keep it flat, matter of fact. He said it to wound, letting the sharp edges dig into fresh wounds. 

And you never left? He could account for you the whole night?

Sidney leaned forward just a little, keeping his shoulders loose. “We were in bed the whole night, I never left.” 

He could see the clench in the detective’s teeth in the tightening of the muscle on his temple, highlighted by streaks of silver brushed into light brown hair. Sidney’s stomach clenched, toes curled into his shoes, thighs rigid. His lips tightened, keeping himself from baring his teeth. 

“Do you have the physical ability to do this to a body?” Ovechkin slid the photo across. Mangled and torn, a little more vivid in photographs than it had been under the shade of the nearest building. Maybe time had dulled the memory a little. This way all the shadows were gone, exposed bone shone wetly, and blood looked thick and congealed. Paw prints photographed close enough to see the small void of the claws, cigarette butts and rotten blood. At least this way he couldn’t smell it. 

“No,” Sidney bit out. Probably not. He’d never tried. “Do you?” 

“I’m not an animal.” Ovechkin smiled thinly. 

Humans liked to pretend that their lack of fur made them less savage. Like not having claws and teeth meant that they didn’t create far more dangerous ways to hurt. Sidney said nothing. 

“What really happened?” It was Backstrom who finally broke their little pissing match. 

“Warg,” Sidney said, looking down at the table. He couldn’t prove anything, but he was sure neither could they. “An old creature, like a wolf and not. The legends say it doesn’t have a man skin. Just hunger,” 

“You’re telling me a legend did this?” Ovechkin was giving him a surprisingly steady look. 

Sidney shrugged. “I’ve seen it, I’ve fought it. A legend with teeth and claws.” 

“What does this ‘warg’ do?” 

“Do?” Sidney cocked his head to the side, what do animals ‘do’, they fight and fuck and eat. “It eats, follows the old hunting tracks, only hearts and only livers.”

“Makes a fucking mess.” 

Backstrom smiled, his pale face was difficult to look at for too long. Something about him was unsettling, just waiting and hiding behind pale blue eyes. 

“I haven’t found a way to stop it yet. I’m sure you have records of the last time it was here. Was in Boston four months ago.”

“And where is this ‘warg’ now?” 

“It hasn’t showed itself yet, we hurt it.” 

“Are you referring to Evgeni Malkin?” 

“Yes. I hired him to help me.”

The questions went on in much the same vein. It seemed as though it was the same questions over and over again, words mixed just a little bit differently, trying to catch him in some sort of lie. It was cold and oddly timeless in the little box they kept him in. Sidney stuck to the truth. 

Eventually they left Sidney with a phone, letting him know they were keeping him for further questioning. He would be spending the night in a holding cell. He could call anyone. 

Sidney’s fingers hovered over the phone. Clenched his teeth and pulled the receiver, punching at the digits. The phone clicked, casing threatening to crack under his fingers. 

The line rang. 

It was late in the evening. He didn’t know what to do if the line didn’t connect. 

“Hello?” Tinny voice from the ancient land line, and Sidney relaxed all at once, only just noticing how tense he had been holding his shoulders. 

“Hey mom.” 

“Sid! Oh it’s been forever since you called.” She sounded breathless, like she had to rush for the phone. 

“Sorry Mom, I’ve been kind of busy.” Honestly, it just hadn’t occurred to him to call. 

“How are you doing? Where are you now?” 

“Well, I’m in jail, and I guess I just wanted to talk to you.” Sidney smiled. His mother made a wordless noise of rage. 

“Sidney.” She clucked at him. 

“I almost had it Mom, I sank my teeth into it and tasted its blood.”

She was quiet for a long time. “No one has ever got that close.” She agreed softly. “Are you going to be okay? Do you need bail? I’m sure me and your father can get something together.” 

“They have nothing, will probably let me go soon. I got too close to the investigation.”

His mother sighed softly. “You be careful now, this is what happens.”

“I am.” Sidney smiled, hadn’t realized he had been holding his face tight too until that also relaxed. 

“Don’t lie to your mother.” 

“Yes mom, of course mom.” 

She hummed, over the crackle of the line it sounded like a growl. “Will you be coming home then?” 

“I hurt it, I didn’t stop it. Next time I will kill it.” 

“Then what Sid? I didn’t stop you when you took off chasing it. It has been years now.” Wolves did not speak the name unless they needed to. To speak of the devil is to summon the devil – that went for almost all things, for names have power. 

Once he had passed as a normal man, played pond hockey on the ice with all the neighbourhood kids. He doted on his younger sister. No one noticed it took him longer to get tired, that he didn’t get cold as fast. He had wondered if he wanted to go to graduate school. He had by all accounts been pretending to be human when he wasn’t. 

He found he liked the way Geno looked at him when he did things men couldn’t. Liked when Horny grinned at him, biceps flexing as he crossed his arms and threw his head back to laugh. 

“I don’t know yet, but I think I’m working on something here. I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

He had been furious when Geno just gave him up, walked away and told Ovechkin to have him. Could feel his ears burn even now thinking about it, jaw clenching tight enough to make his cheeks hurt. It still stung, but he’d had a long sit in a blank room to think. 

“Working on something, what on earth does that mean? You can’t just say that to your mother and expect to get away with it.” 

Sidney found his lips curving without thinking about it. “I really should call more often.” 

“Darn straight kiddo. Are you sure you don’t need anything? A lawyer?”

“No mom, I really just wanted to talk to you, they will probably let me out soon.”

“Probably?” 

Sidney hummed. “This is why I need to kill it; how many have died for its crimes?” 

His mother was quiet for a long time. He had this argument with her before. He still had nightmares about the men with their shotguns, Taylor too scared to be able to shift back. Sidney too young and too powerless to protect her. A species caught between the old ways and the new. 

“I can’t stop you.” 

“Sorry mom.” 

“Sweetie, you don’t need to be sorry, just be careful.” 

 

At least he had been right; it wasn’t long before they came to let him out. Neither Ovechkin nor Backstrom were anywhere to be seen. Sidney walked past the beat cop and out of the police station. The night was chilly, damp with rain that had finished a few hours ago, leaving the world smelling like damp cement. He briefly considered going home. Geno’s house was closer. 

The door was unlocked when he slipped his way up the back stairs. Geno was nowhere on the main floor. Sidney took the spiral staircase and found Geno up in his loft surrounded by his books, he had built a little fort out of them, surrounded by spires. The air here was thick, full of little torrents of air that brushed across his cheeks. 

Geno looked up at him, wrapped in a hoodie and sweats. 

“Okay?” He grunted. 

“Not really.” Sidney crossed his arms. Geno was seated on a low couch, leaving Sidney staring down his nose at him. “Why did you do that?” 

Geno frowned, licking his thick bottom lip. Sidney liked to nibble on it, catching just the sharp edge of his human teeth because it made Geno go tense all over before melting against him. “Do what?” 

Sidney didn’t dignify that with a response. 

“Well-“ Geno trailed off, looking past Sidney somewhere. “I bartered a favour to Sasha, he could have asked anything of me. He asked you.” 

That made some sort of twisted sense at least. That relaxed some of the steel in his spine. 

“What happened between you two?” 

“That’s none of your business,” Geno replied, words sharper than the blades he kept on him, slicing into the air. 

“I was questioned for murder,” Sidney replied flatly. 

“Not my fault, werewolf problem.” 

Sidney snarled at him, sound rumbling from his chest without his bidding. Geno didn’t flinch, continued to glare at him sullenly. 

Sidney wanted to shake him. He could fuck him, bring him to orgasm so many times in a row that he was almost crying with the last one, gasping and shaking, out of his mind with the way Sidney’s cock worked him open. But outside of that they were something else, and Sidney didn’t know what. 

Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth dealing with this. He was two steps down when Geno’s voice stopped him. 

“In Russia, I did a very bad thing.” He was looking down at his book, tone rough enough to make the air shiver. “Mama made me leave. Sasha, he follow me. He watch me, make sure I do nothing bad again. Happy now?” 

Sidney nodded. He locked the door behind him on his way out. 

\--

Geno was actually out picking up some groceries, thinking about what to cook for dinner tonight when he was approached. It was always so crowded on the weekends, children complaining about candy to hassled parents. Young professional-looking men and women pushing carts of organic vegetables and sneaking potato chips. 

She was middle aged, powder on her face to hide the mild wrinkles, caked in the sharp dryness of the air. 

“Malkin,” she said, voice betraying a long lost Eastern Europe lilt to her words. 

He looked down at her. She was tall for a woman, but he was taller. 

“Yes?” 

“You haven’t left your house much. Kept me waiting.” 

Geno looked around; he was in the produce aisle holding a cantaloupe and there were people everywhere. 

“I figured I wouldn’t need to look for you,” he stated, testing the words against her. 

She nodded slowly. “I need you.” 

“Good luck,” he said with a tight smile. 

She was fast, faster than him. He thought she wouldn’t because of the crowd. There was no reason to involve them in this people who had no idea the kind of danger they were in. 

Her blood splashed to the floor in an arc, pain racing across his face where it splattered. He kept his eyes closed, so cold it burned. 

Someone shouted. 

The flames shot up around them, he could sense the heat. Could feel the rush of air around her as she commanded it. Feeling everything happened just a beat too late to do anything about it. 

He shouted as her hand gripped around his arm, dragging him forward. 

He tripped and stumbled, toes and calves felt disconnected. The only part of his body left was the fierce pain that soaked through his face right onto his brain, cooking it in his skull. He would have cried out if he still had a tongue. 

He wasn’t sure he didn’t vomit, just that everything was shaking. It didn’t stop, he didn’t stop. Could have been a year or an hour, time compressed when he couldn’t focus long enough to stop himself from asphyxiating. 

When he was sure he had a body again, it was because he could feel the runes carved into the door touch him. Tingling across his skin as he passed through them. 

He was in his house. 

“You’re back with me.” 

Geno moaned, retching from the pain. It wasn’t physical pain, that he could work through, this was something deep inside him. Ice crystals in his blood, clogging his lungs and heart, stabbing through him and locking him inside his body. 

Something crashed. 

His lungs locked up, choking him. He focused through the pain until he could relax enough to take a breath in, and it burned through him, bringing him further into himself. At least anchoring him to his limbs. Fingers and toes were a little beyond him still. 

He couldn’t even sense the blood in his own body until it spilled around him, warm against the cold of his skin. It flared through him for a moment before that too was sealed away. 

“Yes,” she slurred. The air crackled, something else crashed to the floor. “I knew it would be you.” 

The darkness took him. 

Next time he woke up, his hands were tied behind his back and he was lying curled up on his side on the cold ground. The earth was singing to him, crooning softly with gathering power. An earthquake waiting to happen. He grunted as he struggled to sit up. Everything ached like he’d been slammed into a wall face first. Fuck. Maybe he had. Ha had gotten into a completely mundane car accident once and that hurt less. 

There was enough light from the full moon to see clearly, highlighting everything in a soft silver. Lines of fire burned across his thighs, jeans stiff with frozen blood pulled at the edges of deep cuts. 

“I’m alive.” Sitting with his arms like that was awkward, and pulled at cuts and bruises all over. 

“Did you expect me to kill you?” She didn’t bother to look at him. She was busy walking circles around him, weaving him tighter up in her own power. Whatever she was doing, it was mixed with his own blood, he could feel it binding them together. 

“The others. They didn’t do so well.” 

“They did it because they wanted to.” 

Geno scoffed. “Wanted be dead?” 

“They died because they weren’t strong enough. They were not you.” 

He couldn’t put his finger on what she was weaving around him, no matter how he tried to pick it apart in his mind, wasn’t very good at intuiting ingredients for complex spells. Could tell whatever she was doing was intricate. Less like a circle around him and more like a lattice. Magic taken from the very vibration of the molecules in the air, recreated in an image that would coalesce into a pattern. It tickled at his senses, hinting at a greater math.

“And what is it I am going to do?” 

“We are going to see the future.” 

“Impossible.” 

She stopped and poured a mound of something. It tingled down his spine, could feel it twisting into the splatters of his blood, aching to return to him. “Not impossible, it just has never been done.” 

There was no way to stabilize the amount of energy you would need for something like that. Let alone any way to survive the attempt. Still, he could see why someone might try. The idea was intoxicating, now that he had some idea of what she was trying to do, he could see some of the logic behind her spell weaving. He had gathered from the scene that Alex had shown him that it was a gathering of sort using a single point to draw in massive amount of the raw data of the universe. All the while drawing power to a one point and anchoring it there. 

Only he hadn’t been able to find the exact pattern; too many gaps in the spells. The plan had been to break into the other scenes tonight. See if he could find her before she found him. 

The spell was sucking the very heat out of the air, leaving Geno freezing cold, joints locked in place by more than the ropes. At the same time, whatever she had done to him before was wearing off. 

With every circle, he could sense a little bit more of what she was doing. It was clever, she had bypassed the need for his cooperation by weaving him directly into the spell. She was using him as a conduit and a battery all at once. He should have listened to Alex, but he had been too annoyed by the look of pity on his face. Your hot head is going to be the death of you, his mama used to say. She said many things, finding out as he grew older that one by one they were right. 

“If this works, then what?” 

“Whatever I want. I will have the future in my grasp.” 

He had no way of knowing how the time slipped past. Just the cold wind and slow numbing of his body, and the bite of cold in his fingertips. Still she continued to weave. Some kind of small rodent screamed; it was cut short, an even six more following it. That jolted through him like an electric shock. 

Geno grunted, teeth tight against the sensation of electricity crawling all over his skin. He could feel it from the very beds of his toenails up to the roots of his teeth. 

She had to be almost done, he was almost choking with it, magic so thick around him, keeping him pinned to the ground, the earth rushing up to the meet the sky through the matrix centered around him. She must have triangulated the perfect place first, would at least explain why she felt the need to destroy his house while she was at it. 

It was kind of genius; could have appreciated it more if it wasn’t designed to kill him. 

“Are you ready?” 

She asked, standing on the outside of her design, almost breathless sounding. He could feel where she was connected to the spell as well. A cat’s cradle of webs linking them together. 

Geno didn’t bother to respond. 

“It just has to work this time.” 

Fucking crazy ass chick. 

When it started it seemed small, tingling across his skin, her hands outstretched in front of him, blood dripping from her fingertips. His heart was beating too-fast, making it hard to breathe. Geno closed his eyes, it was so cold, sucking all the heat out of his body. Every drop of his blood was going to soak into the ground, soak right into the fabric of the spell. Pulling from him in deep draws. 

Against his closed eyes he could see something. 

Himself curled on the chair in his library reading, high definition motes of dust dancing in a shaft of sunlight. His mouth curled into a small smile at whatever he was looking at. 

Sidney bleeding everywhere, tossing his head back. Geno had never heard a sound like that, a howl so strong it made the air inside his lungs vibrate with the sound of it. His skin buzzing with the residual burn of Sidney’s blood on his hands. He felt like a bottle of champagne full of potential energy cork just waiting to burst. Geno laughing, yelling along with him adding his voice to their victory cry. 

A girl with blond hair and a wolf’s grin, flicking berries at him while he tried to catch them with his mouth. It bounced off his cheek and she laughed. 

Him bleeding from his hands, a whole house burning behind him. Everything smelled of burning flesh. 

A wolf, snarling. 

Weighing a head of lettuce in one hand at the grocery store, his own face creased in concentration disproportionate to the complexity of the decision. 

Leaning hard on the horn at a car that cut him off. Shouting out the rolled down window. 

A wolf snarling, teeth flashing and going for the throat. 

Something shattered, snapping something inside of him with it. Like what being ripped in two must feel like, bits of him scattering and flying everywhere. Drawing more and more of everything that made of Evgeni Malkin and tearing it up. There was no way he was going to survive this. 

Something hit him and he went sprawling limply, unable to coordinate his limbs to catching himself before his face scraped off the solid ground, head bouncing off the cold dirt. It was on top of him, blanketing him. 

Geno couldn’t stop shaking. The last connection to the spell slipped away from him, leaving him limp and listless. 

“Oh my god.” That was Patric’s voice, it wavered a little. Geno’s world faded out. 

\--

Sidney’s mouth was full of blood. It wasn’t his own. He stood at Malkin’s side, growling and pacing. Geno was laid out towards the edge of the circle. It felt slick under his paws, ground frosted and hard. Patric had jogged after him – he’d taken off at full tilt when the scream shattered the otherwise clear night. 

Geno was pale and limp and Patric stood there eyes wide and showing too much white. 

The woman was no more, a few last gasping gargling breaths. Patric’s big blue eyes kept straying to her. 

Sidney growled low in his throat, adding a little yip to the end, bringing attention back to him. 

“Yeah,” he said, movements jerky as he stepped around her, 

Geno’s heartbeat was faint and fluttering. 

“Fuck.” Patric breathed. 

Sidney whined.

He didn’t have clothes, so he was standing there in his fur when the paramedics arrived; they stared at him stinking of terror. Patric was sitting on the ground, one hand around Geno’s wrist, fingers on his pulse, counting with his eyes closed. This seemed to embolden one enough to step forwards. When Sidney didn’t make a move towards them they relaxed falling on Geno’s still form like carrion birds. 

The police arrived next. 

He didn’t recognize these ones, but they took one look at the scene and he could hear them call it in. Tilted his head as he caught the name Ovechkin. 

The nice thing about not having a larynx that could form words was that Horny had to do all the talking. Sidney watched them, sitting on his haunches because it made people nervous when he stood. Patric explained that they had found Geno’s house empty save for a suspicious pool of blood. 

They didn’t think to ask how Patric knew where to look. They edged around Sidney, never turning their backs to him. Smart for ones so young. 

Patric had looked at the debris of the spell cast and reversed it, giving it a little nudge, muttering as he pulled things out of Geno’s cupboards. Sidney had nosed around, finding every trace of scent that wasn’t him or Geno. She smelled of perfume, something he might have passed in the nicer sections of a drug store. It didn’t belong on Geno’s house, full of a week’s worth of meals and several rounds of athletic sex. 

“This is.” He waved his hand at the area around Geno. The ground was still colder there. Sidney was sitting outside of the circle. The air still felt too still, too charged. The spell wanted them back. He didn’t want to cross it, had no idea what would happen. “Incredible.” 

Sidney snorted. 

“I would have liked to ask questions.” 

Sidney pawed at the ground in response. The blood on his muzzle was dry now. He could still feel it stiff in his fur. He thought on his feet, he’d ripped her throat out, left her choking on her own blood as he’s tackled Geno out of the middle of the circle. He had weighed their lives against each other. Something was consuming Geno, huge and just out of phase with anything he could see. He avoided looking at the body even now. 

Ovechkin arrived much sooner than Sidney had thought. He was out of breath and rumpled, Sidney could smell old sweat, coffee, and anxiety all mixed together and pouring off him. Sidney stood up, nudging Patric in the shoulder with his own on the way up to catch his attention. He had been rubbing some of the dirt between his fingers with a faraway look on his face. 

“I figured the brief of the ‘big-ass dog’ meant it was him.” Ovechkin looked shaken, none of the swagger in his step that Sidney was used to seeing. He looked like he had visibly aged since Sidney saw him last. Something inside of him more brittle. 

Sidney reared up on his back legs, dropping down on his front paws hard enough to make a thump.

“He’s alive,” Ovechkin answered, looking at him. 

Sidney snorted. Sitting down. He couldn’t help it, his tongue lolled out. Some of the anxiety bled out of him and into the ground. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t do that.” Ovechkin barely spared the body a glance, her eyes saw nothing, open and reflecting the huge moon above them. She had barely had time to see him coming, even in death she looked shocked and dismayed. 

Sidney said nothing. There was a lot to be said about nature. He had wanted to believe he wasn’t capable of that when he knew better. Had proved it. 

“Come on, we need to talk.” 

“He’s going to need clothes,” Patric said, waving his hand over Sidney’s furred body. 

“Huh.” 

# 

“That is actually the single most disgusting thing I have ever seen.” Patric looked a little green around the edges. 

Sidney rolled his neck; it was cold without his fur, it was possible his balls were trying to crawl up into his body. He took the sweats offered to him and crawled into them quickly. A pair of too-big runners completed the look. A little homeless but better than running through the city naked. 

Ovechkin stared at him, as if he could imprint it on his brain without blinking. “Crosby,” Sidney shoved his hands in the hoodie’s pocket. Lifting his eyes to meet the other man’s without flinching. “So what happened?” 

“I went to check on Geno, his place was trashed, so I shifted, thought maybe I could follow the trail, I found Patric. He figured out what spell they were doing in the kitchen and that led us here. I heard him scream and when I got there he was nearly dead.” 

“Dispatch said he was admit to intensive care,” Ovechkin said flatly and Sidney went tense all over. Kept his breathing even through force of will alone. 

“Whatever she was doing to him, it was killing him. I can’t see magic, but I can, feel it sort of.” Sidney shrugged. It was like trying to explain shapes in the clouds or the shimmer of heat off hot tarmac. It was there, but you couldn’t always explain the edges, the pattern to anyone else. “I broke the spell.” 

“You tore her throat out.” The words were cold and flat, digging under his skin, into his bones where it hurt. 

Sidney flinched, schooled his features and stood tall. 

“You know- just- just in time.” Ovechkin gave him a tired smile, stumbling over his words. “Look, I will take his story--” Ovechkin pointed the pen he had been rolling between his fingers at Patric. “--but no one saw you here as a human, jog away, I can’t prove you’re a big doggy.” 

Sidney arched an eyebrow at him. Rocked forward on his toes, rooted to the spot. “Last time I wasn’t even involved.” That had involved him handcuffed and humiliated in the back of the police cruiser. 

“Last time you didn’t save Zhenya’s life. When he is awake I will talk with him, but for now you go.” Sidney wasn’t great with reading people, but something about Ovechkin’s face made it difficult to swallow. 

With one last guilty look, Sidney jogged away, leaving Patric to deal with the detective. 

Geno’s blood was all over the kitchen floor. It was sticky and thick when he got there, already clotted. Broken glass glittered in the light, his own paw prints tracking everywhere as he hopelessly searched. It was an unholy mess. Sidney rummaged under the sink, filling a mop bucket he found after rising a spider out of it, and set about trying to clean. 

It took him until the morning, and even with all that he couldn’t seem to touch the worst of the staining that had seeped into the cracks of the linoleum. 

Geno’s bedroom had been spared whatever happened. Bed rumpled from the last time he left it. He considered shifting before he crawled in but honestly, he was sick of the smell of blood. Being human blunted it enough to forget for just a moment. The idea left him feeling a little green, so he stripped out of Ovechkin’s borrowed clothes and curled on his side of Geno’s bed and fell asleep. 

He woke up to Patric hammering on the door and yelling at him in something clearly not English; it vibrated all the way up the back steps. Sidney rolled out of bed with a grunt. 

Sidney pulled on the sweatpants again and opened the door that connected the levels directly rather than the one to outside. Patric shoved a cup of coffee at him. “Come on, he’s awake and waiting for us. Put on a shirt, or don’t, I can’t imagine anyone would complain!”

Sidney rolled his eyes, scratching at his stomach with the hand that wasn’t reaching out for the mug. 

“Everything go okay last night?” he asked, voice coming out morning rough. 

“Yeah, Ovechkin seemed pretty sure it was just going to go away, he works a lot of these cases.” 

“I know.” Sidney sighed, taking a long sip of the scalding coffee. Patric shrugged, sharp smile at odds with his casual stance. 

“I will trust him, for now.” Patric’s smile was something Sidney would more willingly put his faith in. “Anyways, G was moved from the ICU to normal ward early this morning. Let’s go already.” 

\--

Geno buzzed, he could feel it under his skin, all along the lengths of the hair on his head, his legs, the tiny hairs on the tops of his feet. Everything was clamouring at him, a million tiny sensory inputs all at once. The light was so bright it burned, and each burst of laughter from the nurses at the station next to his room was like gunfire. 

It was four per room, but he’d been put in a transition ward and thankfully didn’t have anyone else here with him. Gave him a little more time to try and gather the scattered bits of himself before adding more people to the crowd inside of his head. 

Geno grunted, closing his eyes against everything and trying to wish it away. His mama didn’t have any helpful phrases or hints for this situation. 

There was a button to summon a nurse with too-warm hands and a smile – she was several months pregnant and he could _feel_ it. Maybe she would give him something to knock him out. 

“You don’t look so good,” Sidney said softly from the door. 

“Shit,” Geno agreed in a low rumble that felt like it was hollowing out his eyeballs. “Like steaming pile of shit.” 

Sidney wandered closer and at least that felt right. Strong and solid like a tree, rooted to the spot and not about to burst into confetti. Geno focused on him completely using the unmoveable solid presence against the tide of voices. 

Sidney sat down in the chair next to his bed. Having him closer was just that much better and Geno relaxed against the bedding. He forced himself to blink, eyes stinging. Sidney raised his eyebrows. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Only thing that feels normal.” Geno waved a hand vaguely in front of his face, refusing to be alarmed by the multiple afterimages it caused. He was moving in slow motion, or the world was. “They give me packed blood, feels like twenty people all inside me.” 

“Oh.” Sidney reached out, touching the back of his hand lightly. Thankfully the IV was only running clear now, giving him fluids and electrolytes to replace what he had lost. He had been classified as haemorrhagic shock requiring immediate aggressive resuscitation. Nonsense, the cuts on his thighs wouldn’t have put him in danger of bleeding out. Most of his blood had boiled away inside of him, outside of him, something like that, he wasn’t actually very certain. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“Wait until everyone here, don’t want to repeat.” Geno winced at a spike in his heart rate, making his pulse rush through him. 

Sidney’s thumb rubbed across the back of his hand, giving him something real to focus on, not the phantom of people kicking up a fuss in his arteries like they knew they didn’t belong there. 

Patric came in shortly after, giving Geno his usual sunny good morning; it was even less palatable when he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. “I got you something.” 

Between the three of them they got him propped up, the back of his cloth gown untied so Patric could pull the front of his shirt down a little. Sidney sniffed at the cream Patric had in a little travel-shampoo bottle. He did that a lot, probably thought he was being subtle about it too. Nose crinkling against the smell. 

Patric’s finger-painting over his breastbone calmed the worst of the jitters. He may have groaned as he fell back against the bed. He was going to marry that man. 

“I think he likes me more than you.” Patric winked at Sidney, who just snorted, watching Geno with those perfect eyes of his. 

“I love you,” Geno agreed. It felt so good to be alone inside of himself again. 

He slit his eyes open to look at Sidney, sitting there watching him. He hadn’t seen him since the morning in the library. He hadn’t reached out because he still didn’t want to talk about it. This way, maybe they could avoid it. Or maybe not. Where they went from here was still undecided. “Sasha need to see me?” 

“Yeah,” Sidney responded while Patric was frowning. “Detective Ovechkin,” Sidney said for Patric’s benefit. 

“He will probably be here soon; he was the one who called.” Patric nodded, making a little ‘oh’ face of understanding. 

Geno sighed, he probably should have known. Alex was always going to be there, if only to stick his nose in Geno’s business. If he lived to 105, Alex was going to live to 106 just to spite him. 

They were talking about what Geno could figure out about the matrix and what Patric had seen when Alex walked in. For all that she killed a bunch of people and hadn’t thought twice about Geno’s blood on her hands, she had been amazing. It had been glorious, a real Tower of Babel reaching towards the dominion of the gods. 

It had been genius. The subtleties were so minute, but each part working towards a whole like the gears in an old clock wound up and ticking forever. The biggest calculation he had ever seen. He just wished he had a copy of it himself. There had to be a way to get it to work, she had been onto something. As far as Patric could make out, it used a feedback loop at its core, feeding Geno the relay as it drew from him at the center of the design. Trying to branch of, pining like a relay until it could map huge areas of time and space.

“She reworked the whole thing just to be able to use it on you,” Patric said, looking suitably impressed, knees spread wide on the stool he had pulled over. He had an actual notebook pressed against one thigh, taking sporadic notes as Geno tried to explain, so engrossed they didn’t even notice someone else stepping into the room; out of the corner of his eye, Sidney didn’t look surprised. 

“You knew she would come for you,” Alex accused, looking at him with bloodshot eyes. He looked exhausted. 

Geno almost felt bad. “Of course, she wanted blood mages, would want the best.” 

Alex scowled at him. Backstrom stepped in after him, closing the door and the sounds of the rest of the hospital out. Alex’s own personal shadow. Creepy fucker. Dealing with him left Geno unsettled in a way he couldn’t explain. There was just something off about the combination of pale blue eyes and an easy smile. 

“I told you to be careful.” He sighed. 

There was a chance he could have been a little more cooperative. “I was. She found me when I was grocery shopping. I needed bread.” There still wasn’t any food in his house. He had eaten it all while sulking and trying to piece together what kind of spell would require the blood of another blood mage. 

That at least got a reaction from Patric. “The fire?” 

Geno nodded. The next bit was a little fuzzy, the memories disjointed. “I think she took me home? I don’t remember well.” 

“That is where Sid found your blood,” Patric added. “It looked like a pretty routine triangulation spell; likely also needed to be attuned to you, so she took you back to the seat of your power.”

“You come to look for me?” Geno met Sidney’s eyes, watched him look embarrassed, but maintaining eye contact through it. This time when his pulse skipped it was all him. 

“I –uh, wanted to see you.” 

“Cute.” Geno scowled at Patric, not needing input from the peanut gallery. “Yes, I pushed the spell a little further, made it give me the same answer. Me and Sidney went to Lookout Hill and that was where we found you. You were mostly dead so we called the ambulance.”

“This doesn’t explain when the wolf decided to tear her throat out,” Backstrom added mildly, like he wasn’t aware that the wolf was Sidney. 

Geno’s head whipped around to look at Sidney. He was sitting tense in his chair, fingers linked in front of him, knuckles white with the pressure. He looked pale except for two high spots of colour on his face. 

“He was screaming. It was almost done, I could smell all the blood.” Sidney squinted at his face, slowly looking through him, Geno leaned forward, couldn’t blink if he wanted to. The idea of Sidney ripping out her throat to save him was dangerously attractive. “There was something there, something huge, maybe it was what I can see of the spell, maybe it was something else.” He shrugged liquidly. “I needed to stop her, she pulled a knife when I attacked. I needed to stop her quickly to get to you.” 

“You killed her.” Backstrom again. 

“Hey.” Geno sat up straighter in bed. 

Backstrom assessed him with pale eyes, seeming more amused than anything else despite his inflammatory comment. 

“I did,” Sidney agreed. 

“Sid.” There wasn’t anything else he could really say. 

“What was she trying to do anyways?” Alex asked, breaking the awkward silence that fell over them. Geno unable to tear his eyes away from Sidney’s gaze. Predatory and possessive. 

“She was trying to read the future.” 

Maybe it was because he had known Alex so long, or maybe something about himself that Alex recognized because the next question brought a smile to his face. “Did it work?”


End file.
